The Day the Magic Died
by yehudi13
Summary: It was everything he lived for, everything he believed in, everything he loved. A promise is a promise. harrydraco requiescat in pace deathfic


Rating: PG- 13 for content

Pairing: Harry and Draco

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns the characters, the lake, and every curse except for the really cool one that I made up!

Author's Note: Well this is probably the first ever angst ridden story I've ever written. Which I wrote quite quickly! I mean I only started this story like hmm a week ago! And now it's finished and eight pages at that! I stole my first quote that's just below my ramble section and the other one in the story from another story I read that I can't remember at the moment which I'll give full credit to whoever found them so yeah reviews are greatly appreciated and criticism is most welcome! Cuz well knowing me I need it so my writing won't suck as much! All I really have to say is that well I guess it's a little OOC but not too much I mean they are teenagers and there is a war going on and yeah blame it on that!

The Day the Magic Died

_"If you should die before me, ask if you could bring a friend."_

_- StoneTemple Pilots _

Tomorrow would be the day. He had received the notice not long before. He figured it would come eventually. It'd have to. The prophecy said that it'd come to pass and tomorrow it would. Plain and simple. Dumbledore had basically said 'It's happening tomorrow, do whatever you like before, just be there when it's time.' … or something remotely related to that at least.

So that's where Harry had found himself, at the school lake, on the last of his days. It's not as though he could have gone anywhere else really. He was still in his seventh year, nearing the end so he couldn't leave, and it's not as though he'd have anywhere to go, Sirius was gone, the Dursleys where out of the question and he just didn't have anyone else… he would have gone to graduation in thirteen days if he didn't go. He knew it was final. Harry knew that he was going to die… but at least he'd bring Voldemorte with him. He told himself that he was ready for this. Over and over again. He had trained for it: regular classes with the rest of the school and extra ones at night that left him drained beyond reason. The teachers said he was ready, the Order did, and Dumbledore did too. So why was he still shivering, shaking with fear or something of the like.

It was a hot scorching day, probably the hottest yet, maybe the hottest day of the summer for all Harry would know, he was going to die tomorrow, yet he was shivering, ripples racking through his lithe frame. Trying his best to shrug off his spasm he leaned against the soft grass the enveloped the lake and shut his eyes tight trying to block out all traces of sunlight but only managing to leave a slight orangey-red glow behind his eye lids.

He remembered back to when he was eleven. When he was innocent. When magic had been a source of joy, a sense of belonging somewhere in the world, and not the strange little Potter boy that Dudley and his friends at school alienated. Hagrid, he had been his first real friend. He told him that he was a wizard, that his parents where wizards… something that he and his parents shared, something he could relate them too. But now, now the innocence was gone. Taken by some power hungry egomaniac that had his own self-hatred mental disorder.

Everyone was always changing, bad things happening, all because of him and … magic really. The only thing that ever stayed a constant in his life was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was safe. He could always count on Malfoy to throw insults and obscenities in the corridor on the way to class, to give him his trademark smirk, to always make him feel _alive_. As if there was something other in the world then Voldemort or school or magic and Malfoy gave him that. He gave him an escape. Harry liked that. He liked it so much he began to notice how sad and unbearably boring his life would become if Malfoy had not been there. But of course none of this matter because he was going to die tomorrow. Wasn't he?

There was rustling in the bushes behind Harry that made him bolt up from his relaxed position of lying in the dirt.

" Who's there?"

No answer.

Harry slowly got to his feet, mentally preparing himself for whatever lay protected by the great amounts of brush. He was much surprised when it was Malfoy who emerged from the shrub, the blond- heir- of- all- Slytherin- evil- and- wealth, when he was actually suspecting Voldemort to pop out of the bush. However now given time to think Harry doubted that, Voldemort would be a bit more creative than hiding in a bush and then cursing him dead. But to tell the truth Harry was kind of glad it was Malfoy and not Dumbledore or Ron or Hermione or Hagrid or G-d forbid that blood-scapegoating loony.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled with his trademark smirk. This was right, good. Something Harry had counted on, even been looking forward to.

" Malfoy," Harry replied with a grin forming on his face. This wasn't normal procedure, he was supposed to have some sort of scowl or grimace for whatever taunts the blond had prepared for him or his friends. But he was smiling now. He wanted this to happen. Something to show him that even though he was messed up inside, wanting to scream and cry and completely destroy everything within reach, that at least something hadn't changed. That everything would be all right. So they began their game of Malfoy slinging insults at Harry's parents, friend choices, and him in particular actually; and Harry would always rebuttal with something foul about Malfoy's family, about his own friends, and how he was such a rich snob. This was what Harry loved. Strange wasn't it? He loved Malfoy's and his hatred of each other.

Malfoy was the first to treat him normal, all the way back in Madam Malkin's Robe Shoppe. Even after that, when he knew that Harry was The- Boy- Who- Lived- And- Just-Wouldn't-Die. Well tomorrow he would. But at least he had this before he did.

Harry wondered if Malfoy knew what was going to happen to him tomorrow. Wouldn't doubt it. His father was the loony's right hand man to say he least. So Harry mentioned it.

" You came all the way down here to see if I was scared to die right or is it something else perhaps? Maybe you just came down to gloat about your almighty Malfoy name and power."

Silence then, " You're not going to die."

" And how would you know. I bet you knew since the moment you knew who I was on the train the way that madman was going to kill me. Didn't you?"

Harry was flushed now. He didn't know where this came from. Maybe because he was scared of dieing and wanted someone to deny it, which Malfoy had done… but no ne else had. It was strange. Didn't Malfoy want him dead? He was a Death Eater wasn't he?

Furthermore, the two of them had somehow drawn themselves closer together throughout their argument. Their nose's barely a foot apart. Harry shivered a little again. It could of just be because he was scared, but he had a fairly sure idea that it was from the warm breath ghosting over his already heated visage.

…it was stupid. A stupid thing to do. He should have a caution sign stamped across his forehead, 'Beware! RANDOM BOY KISSER' flashing in neon green. But even stranger than him actually kissing, KISSING, Malfoy was that oddly enough he was kissing back with just as much helplessness and desperation as Harry.

Harry had never kissed anyone in his life, excepting Cho all the way back in fifth year and that had been a disaster. Wet with tears and not pleasurable at all. The reason he had never kissed anyone else was perhaps he was too busy: busy with school, busy with extra evil vanquishing lessons, dealing with more loony shit than he needed or perhaps it was because he was scared it would be just as horrible as his first. He hadn't talked to Cho much after 'the incident' other than the small acknowledgement on the train back home from fifth year; they really hadn't tried to make much contact with each other after that.

But this, this kiss with Malfoy, it was unexpected, even though he initiated it. But it was good, much better than Cho's. It was wet too, but not with salty tears that seeped into his mouth, the bitter taste of it had made him grimace. But this, this kiss, he floated, he flew, as if on clouds that would never fade. It was the most wonderful sensation he'd ever felt in his life. Better than finding out that he was a wizard, better than making friends with Ron and Hermione, better than anything. It filled him with ecstasy… made him feel _alive_… because this was Malfoy and he was his constant in his chaotic fucking hell hole of a life that was continually sinking lower every second; except for these few where he soared above the rest of the world in true bliss so high in the atmosphere that no one would reach him with talks of crazed lunatics plotting to destroy the world and his very existence.

" You won't die. Promise me that."

Harry stared blankly at Draco. He had just kissed a boy. Did that mean that he was 'gay'? Did he even care as long as he stayed in this moment forever?

" Promise me. Promise that you'll come back and stay here, with me,… forever."

What was going on. Since when did Draco care about me? Since when did I care that he cared about me? Since when did I start referring him as Draco….

" Please Harry. I need you to promise."

Tears were streaming down Draco's cheek's staining them bright red and pink. This was unheard of. A _Malfoy_ crying, _Draco_ crying, because of _him_.

" I promise."

oOo

The Battlefield was black and desolate. There was a faint haze with flashes of random colours: red, blue, white, green… Bodies everywhere, of random wizards and muggles. All spread out at odd angles that shouldn't be aloud. The stench of it even worse almost making him double over in the smell of mutilated cadavers and corpses strewn all around.

The day had come, and now was the moment. Harry had spotted Voldemort. He was standing or more like floating in the centre of all the action. Harry moved closer as if there was some sort of gravity pulling him in. But he was confident. He'd come out of this. He had promised. He had promised Draco…

The message had popped out of the air and landed in the turf next to them. They had had stared at it for over five minutes expecting it to explode or something equally as terrible when Harry leaned over and grasped the little scrap of parchment.

'It's time.' was all it said in familiar loopy calligraphy.

Little beads of water began to collect at the creases of his eyes. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to break his promise to Draco.

"Shh, it's alright," came a sotto voice to his side. Warm comforting arms snaked around his middle and hugged him tight.

" But I have to go." Harry choked, " I don't want to go."

"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is before you can meet again. And meeting again after a moment or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends." Draco responded carefully, as if reciting something that had been told to him numerous times or something he had read once in a book.

oOo

Everything was in chaos. People running everywhere, bodies- people, collapsing left and right. It was truly frightening, and Draco was standing in the middle of it. Standing, staring, looking around for one person. He didn't know why he was so scared, he had promised that'd he'd come back. And he would, wouldn't he?

oOo

Voldemort was raising his wand now. Harry kept desperately trying to think of a word, some sort of spell but his mind drew blanks every way he looked. He was ready for this, what had happened? He had prepared for so long! How could he get nervous now!

oOo

There he was right in the centre, facing _him_. Something clenched in Draco, constricting his breath. This was wrong all wrong. Why wasn't Harry doing anything? He's just standing there! He promised…

oOo

Laughing met his ears. High pitched and curdling. Harry shivered again. This isn't happening, this isn't happening.

oOo

Draco was running through the crowd of duelers and trapped bystanders now, pushing and shoving them out of his way. He had to get to Harry.

oOo

Voldemort was hissing his incantation now, "_Avada Kedavra_ _!" _ a green jet of light shot forth from his wand. Yew, eleven inches, flexible, phoenix feather. The same in Harry's, his own. So why wasn't he doing anything with his. Voldemort was, so why wasn't he? He was supposed to be the savior of the world. He was The- Boy- Who- Lived, The Golden Boy, Wonder Boy, and 'The Celebrity'. He had the world on his shoulders, at only seventeen. Harry wondered if Dumbledore felt this helpless when he was fighting Grindelwald.

oOo

Why wasn't Harry doing anything? He was just standing there, seemingly waiting for Voldemort to ascend upon him, to cast him into a billion tiny pieces. Voldemort had raised him wand, poised ready to admit any curse that fell forth from his slit of a mouth.

oOo

The spurt of green was hurtling toward him. Harry wondered why no one had ever thought to step to the side of the impossible to counter killing curse. It seemed logical. So he did. He sidestepped it, just as if he were dancing to a waltz or a fox trot. One, two, three. One, two, three. He just happened to be on his two and it worked. The light swept past him leaving his robes billowing out. Harry stepped back into three to face Voldemort with a grin. He had avoided his curse yet again. Voldemort was smiling.

oOo

Draco could recognize those two words anywhere. Any regular person would if they had grown up listening to it as regular vocabulary at the dinner table. Wouldn't you? Draco opened his mouth, ready to scream, do anything to make Harry avoid the attack, but before he uttered a word, Harry moved off to the side. He was safe; away from the harsh bright light that could wrench the life from his warm body. But the light kept going. Straight, on it's course.

oOo

He shouldn't have been smiling should he? Harry had just avoided certain death yet again by the man who had been beseeching his death all his life. He should be put out, disappointed, sad? Yet the grin stayed plastered on that horrifying face. But that was odd, Voldemort wasn't confused on him. He was staring at something just behind him.

oOo

Draco was behind him. Standing stock-still. Face if ever possible paler. What had happened? Realization hit him with an overbearing power. This wasn't supposed to happen. Draco wasn't --- it was him, he was supposed to--- but then why was Draco. Harry had promised he should have made Draco promise too! It wasn't fair. As if the fates were determined to make his life just has miserable as Job's. A living hell right when it became a heaven that was only waiting for him outside of destruction's shadow. But his heaven, his hope, his faith, his everything, lay not ten feet from him, eye's wide open from shock, horror, Harry didn't want to know. It broke him. Harry shivered. He was cold. It was still warm and hot but he was cold. Something inside him curled up and died.

oOo

"_Avada Kedavra_ !" Harry decided from then on that he despised those two words. Hated them with a passion. Hated them with the fire of a thousand suns, if you will. He did something now. He didn't move, he didn't dance his way out of the path of 'certain' death. But he wasn't going to let Voldemort go without him.

oOo

"_Animam."_

oOo

It was a whispered curse. But Harry doubted that it'd matter. It would do just as damage as Voldemort's _" Avada Kedavra" _would any day. It was an ancient curse. One that Harry doubted that even Voldemort knew. It was special of course. Nothing ordinary for him, You- Know- Who, The Dark Lord, He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named.. It was unique in a way that _"Avada Kedavra"_ would never be. See when preformed on a victim, it let them take one last breath, their dieing breath if you will, and simply die. Unlike the shoddy unforgivable killing curse the horrified it's casualties to death, or something like that, Harry really didn't know how it worked, all he knew was why it was called an unforgivable. Not because some Ministry official would throw you in Askaban over it, or you'd be kicked out of school, or have your wand snapped for performing it, no none of those. It was because any one who knew the victim would never _ever_ forgive or pardon the bearer in anyway.

oOo

Harry grinned. The bright emerald light fast approaching him but as Harry watched Voldemort cackle, his cynical, sadistic, laugh Harry's spell hit him. It was as if Voldemort had just realised what living could do to you. Taking that one last breath, he died just as the brilliant green light enveloped him

oOo

Harry smiled at himself. He had broken his promise yet, this way no one would suffer. Everyone would be happy. He could be with Draco….

Notes:

**1. **Harry's spell, 'animam', means to breathe one's last, die in Latin

**2.** Draco's well thought out quote, "Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is before you can meet again. And meeting again after a moment or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends."- Richard Bach


End file.
